"Even if it meant leaving everything I built?"
"I didn't say I'd choose it. I said I'd consider it."
"That's not reassuring."
"Truth rarely is." He meets my eyes. "But I wouldn't make that choice without you. We'd negotiate."
"With your elders?"
"With everyone involved. Find middle ground." His voice softens. "I'm good at strategy, remember?"
"And if there's no middle ground?"
"Then I choose you." Simple. Immediate. "Every time."
My throat tightens. "That's a big promise."
"I don't make small ones."
I see the elders' section. Borgat is watching, expression unreadable.
"What if I said the same?" I ask quietly. "That I'd choose you, even if it cost me the bakery?"
"I'd call you a liar."
"Excuse me?—"
"The bakery is part of you. Your dream, your work, your identity." He steps closer. "I wouldn't ask you to give thatup. We'd find another way. Remote clan participation, shared territory agreements, modern compromises for old traditions."
"You've thought about this."
"Extensively." He touches my cheek. "I want a life with you, Trinity. Not a life where one of us sacrifices everything. That's not partnership."
I kiss him. Right there, in front of everyone.
The audience erupts.
Claudia grins. "I'm calling that a pass."
CHALLENGE THREE: PASSED
Challenge four is cultural exchange. I have to teach Korgan a human tradition; he has to teach me an orc one.
I choose baking, obviously. Specifically, decorating cookies.
Korgan holds the piping bag like a weapon.
"Gently," I instruct. "You're icing a cookie, not subduing an enemy."
"Same principle. Control and precision."
"Absolutely not the same?—"
He squeezes. Icing explodes across the counter.
I dissolve into giggles. "Okay, new approach. Think of it like writing a treaty. Careful strokes, deliberate placement."
That works better. His next attempt produces a wobbly but recognizable star shape.
